


kiss me in the dark tonight

by dizzy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 19:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18146519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Dan's selling merch for a local dj and crushing on the dj's brother.





	kiss me in the dark tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waveydnp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/gifts).



Dan's made a lot of shitty decisions in his life. Moving to Manchester even though he didn't know anyone, thinking that it would be a fresh start and not just a brand new opportunity to self-isolate with no one to pull him out of his pit. Not attending lectures or study groups. Not recognizing that there was maybe something wrong with how the desperate desire to succeed and make people proud somehow co-existed with that thing in his brain that kept him from ever getting out of bed, kept him hollow and empty and sad on the inside. That day he shouted at his mum down the phone line until she cried. 

He still makes a lot of shitty decisions. But he's stumbled into a few non-shitty ones that led him here: standing on the quad staring at the bulletin board as he willed himself to walk the few more feet into his student advisers office. Showing up at the club that night, letting himself get lost in the pounding of the music that drove everything else out of his mind. Stumbling drunk on music and desperate for water to the bar, sinking to the floor with his back to the wall in a darkened club corner and crying some kind of godawful release while records scratch and people shout their happy oblivion. 

The music was, for a time, the only thing that made him feel. So when the dj finally had enough of seeing Dan around every week and invited him to earn a bit of money on the side helping out, saying yes was maybe the least shitty decision of the year. 

*

Martyn can't pay him much, but it's enough to keep him in pot noodles and pay for a crap room in a crap flat he shares with crap people whose names he barely remembers. He doesn't see them much anyway. He doesn't get back to the flat until close to daybreak and he crashes for nine, ten, sometimes twelve hours before he peels himself off of the dingy mattress and goes to do it all again. 

But it's not as grim as it sounds. He functions better on a schedule where people are expecting him to be somewhere and do something. He likes feeling alive during the night time. He doesn't drink a lot, doesn't like what that does to his brain, but he spends the sets now in the green room if he's having a quieter night. He talks to the small collective of offbeat, music-minded freaks that seem to gather every night. He can't remember most of their names, but they're nice enough and they don't give a shit about him and that's nice. No expectation, just conversation. 

He naps on the sofa and sometimes does food runs and once in a while meets their weed dealer for them and sells Martyn's mix tapes for him on nights where there's enough merch to make a table. 

It's... a life. 

*

"Daniel." Cornelia's voice floats in through the haze of his one am nap. Normally he wouldn't be asleep so early, but he knows he won't be getting his normal daytime stretch of unconsciousness. Martyn's got a weekend gig in Brighton and Dan's along for the ride to help cart equipment in and out and shill the capitalistic wares. 

"Mm." He grumbles, flinging an arm over his eyes. "Not yet, mum. Five more minutes." 

She laughs and swats at him. She hates when he calls her mum. 

Then he hears a second laugh, one that makes him instantly awake. 

"We've got company," she says. "Phil's here to film again tonight." 

Dan stifles a yawn as he opens his eyes and then sits up. Normally she gives him more warning when Phil's going to be here. It'd taken her about five seconds to suss out that Dan gets a little louder and has a tendency to nervous ramble a bit more when Martyn's brother is around. 

And yeah - there he is, standing in the doorway with his hands in some weird configuration half inside and half outside of the pockets of his jeans. He looks lanky and awkward and out of place, just like he always does, but he's got a smile for Dan that feels like the sun coming out and all that cheesy shit that Dan generally likes to pretend he's immune to. 

"Hey," he says, hoping he sounds casual and knowing he just sounds mildly constipated instead. 

"Hey." Phil beams again. 

"What are you filming tonight?" Dan asks. He assumes it's not the actual set, since that's currently happening outside. 

"He wanted to do a little q&a thing for his channel," Phil says. Martyn's got a decent following on youtube, a combination of his mix tapes having a small but dedicated fanbase and - as Cornelia says - all the cuteness. 

Dan, in all his fledgling queerness, hasn't yet figured out how to pipe up with the fact that he doesn't think Martyn is actually the cute Lester brother. 

"That's cool," Dan says. 

Suave. Smooth. No wonder he's been single since he was seventeen. 

"Guess I'd better get to it, then. He's almost at his break." Then Phil's ducking his head with another cute little smile and waving goodbye. 

Once he's gone Cornelia stands there, shaking her head. 

"What?" Dan says defensively. 

She just laughs then leans in and whispers conspiratorially: "The q&a wasn't Martyn's idea." 

Then she leaves him to stew in the thought.

* 

It's three in the morning and the crowd is a writhing mass of body paint and sweat until technicolor lights that flash in time with the beat. 

Dan has ear plugs in, but he still loves it. He loves how no one person matters in moments like this, it's all about the feeling they're all experiencing at the same time. 

He's working the merch booth and he's not expecting to see Phil, which is why he almost drops a stack of cds when he turns and sees bright blue eyes staring right at him. 

"Thought you might be thirsty," Phil says, holding out a drink. 

"Mum told me never to take drinks from strange men," Dan says, and he means to be teasing but Phil's eyebrows knit together in concern. Dan reaches out to snatch the drink before Phil can take it back. "Joke, I'm joking."

"Oh," Phil says. "Okay, good."

It's vodka and he hates vodka, but he swallows it down and tries to embrace the paint thinner burn. It's easier because Phil bought it for him, somehow. 

"How'd the thing go?" Dan asks, Cornelia's words lingering in his mind.

Phil shrugs. "Went alright, I guess. His fans on youtube will love it. Cornelia even made a guest appearance." 

Dan grins. Everyone loves Cornelia. Dan reckons if she cared to try, she'd easily be more popular than Martyn. He hopes one day she will. 

Three people come up to look at the USB sticks of music they have for sale. The CDs almost count as retro at this point, but Martyn's up with the times as well. Dan hopes Phil will stick around until they decide what they want to get, but when he looks up a few minutes later Phil's disappeared into the crowd. 

Maybe next weekend.

*

Or maybe sooner.

Cornelia joins him for the last few minutes. "Did you hear the lovely news?" She asks. 

"No?" Dan asks, busy locking up the cash box. "Let me guess: there was a record label owner in the audience and he's going to sweep Martyn away to Hollywood to make him a star?" 

Cornelia scrunches her face up and laughs. "Disgusting. I'd never allow it." 

"Of course you wouldn't," Dan agrees.

"No, it's even better." She grins at him. "Martyn's asked Phil if he'd come to Brighton with us and do a bit of a day in the life video." 

Dan's head snaps up and he instantly loses count on the money. "Phil's coming to Brighton?" 

Cornelia reaches out and taps a finger against his nose. "Thought you'd like that." 

"Shut up," Dan says, but he doesn't deny it. 

*

Dan's taking the train to Brighton. 

Martyn's got a car, but the boot and the backseat both are loaded with his equipment. Cornelia books him the ticket so he’s not out any money of his own, and all considered can’t truly say that he minds. It's almost two hours that he can sleep or listen to music or just fucking blank on the whole of life and reality. 

But the train doesn't leave for another hour, long enough that he doesn't want to just sit at the station, not long enough for him to actually go back to his flat. 

So he wanders down the street from the venue with his backpack slung over his back and seeks out something that might pass for breakfast. He's actually walking past Starbucks in favor of something a little less capitalistic-machine-like when he spots the shape of something familiar through the window. 

Phil's in one of the chairs, fast asleep. Dan stops just to stare at him, heart going rabbit fast. He feels creepy as fuck, and he can't exactly see Phil's face, but he's still pretty fucking sure he'd know that weird head shape anywhere. 

He hates how predictable he is but he backtracks his steps and pushes the door open. The barista behind the counter is dealing with a customer and there's another three behind them in line so Dan joins the end of the queue and tries to pretend he's not just blatantly staring. 

He hopes Phil will wake up by the time he's got a drink in hand that he didn't even really want and an egg sandwich that will probably taste like cardboard and cost far too much money, but Phil's still snoozing peacefully in his overstuffed window chair. 

Dan stands in front of him. He's two seconds away from turning and walking out, calling it a loss, when Phil's eyes fly open. He jumps and lets out a strangled noise of fear, hand flying up over his mouth. "Oh my god, Dan!" 

"Uh." The drink cup is too hot in Dan's hand, but his fingers flex around it anyway. "Hi. I just, uh. Saw you here." 

"You nearly scared me to death." Phil sits up and not-quite-surreptitiously-enough wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Don't worry," Dan says. "You weren't drooling." 

Phil looks mortified. Yeah, Dan’s got this in the bag. 

"Do you want to sit?" Phil asks, tugging on the bottom of his t-shirt as he sits up even straighter. 

"Sure." Dan takes the end of a sofa, the one positioned at an l-shape from Phil's chair. There's a small wooden table between them that he puts his coffee and sandwich one. "You're Brighton bound as well, yeah? Thought you'd be riding with Martyn, document the whole journey and all?" 

"If I sat in a car for two hours the only thing anyone would document is my motion sickness," Phil says, wincing at the thought. "It's awful. Trains don't bother me, though. Something about how big they are, I guess. What about you? Why aren't you riding with them?" 

"Space issues," Dan says. "I'm on the train, too." 

"Oh, are we..." Phil digs out his phone and shows Dan his mobile ticket. "... on the same one?" 

Dan's heart starts to do that silly fluttering thing. He holds up his phone and says, "Seat right beside yours." 

Fucking Cornelia. 

(Dan owes her one.) 

*

"I haven't been to Brighton in years," Phil says. He's eating the kind of muffin that looks like it's not even trying to pretend it's anything but cake, with chocolate chunks all throughout. "I think I was with my parents last time I went. What about you?" 

Dan shrugs. "I think I went once or twice with friends in college, but I don't remember much of it." 

He does actually remember getting drunk and having sex with his ex on the beach, but it feels like information that would be reductive to the current mission to share.

"We’ll have a few hours before his set starts so Martyn asked me to line up some cool shots. I thought I'd film him and Cornelia walking down the beach maybe? What do you think?" 

Dan has no idea why Phil is asking. Dan's only experience with this sort of thing are some shitty videos he made as a teenager and put on youtube, only to make private a couple weeks later and never think of again. "That sounds great," he says. "And you're going to film the festival?" 

It's a posh one. They've even got Martyn put up in some kind of fancy beach front hotel, though most of the festival goers will probably camp out with tents just like Dan used to do when he still did things like attend festivals. You know, back when he actually had friends that weren't directly related to him providing a service. 

(He thinks that it's as unfair of him to think as it is actually, at the end of the day, true. Martyn's fantastic but he can't escape the knowledge that they're too cool to voluntarily hang out with Dan.) 

"I am," Phil says. "I'll try, at least. I'm afraid I didn't get the party goer gene, Martyn took all those up in the womb. All he left me was the 'spends too much time playing Mario Kart' and 'laughs to dumb internet pictures' genes." 

It's really unfair how much more endeared Dan grows every time they talk. “You play Mario Kart.” 

Phil gives him an odd look. “Doesn’t every one?” 

“I guess.” Dan shrugs a bit. “Anyway, that’s the sort of party I prefer too.” 

“Really?” Phil seems dubious. “But you’re like…” 

He waves his hand. 

“I’m what?” Dan asks. 

It takes Phil a while to get the words out but he finally says: “You’re the sort of person who my brother hangs out with.” 

Dan snorts. It’s too funny how similar that is to his own recent line of thought. “I’m the sort of person your brother pays to sell his CDs.” 

“Yeah, but Martyn doesn’t work with people unless he likes them,” Phil says. “My dad always yells at him for it. He says Martyn needs to associate with more go getters.” 

Phil surely doesn’t mean it as an insult, but it still stings. “Well, that’s sure as fuck not me. Sorry, mate.” 

Phil’s taken aback. “No, I didn’t - I didn’t mean it like that. You’re… great, Dan. I just-” 

“Nah.” Dan can feel something shuttering inside of him, and he hates it. He pulls out his phone and looks at the time. “We should probably get to the train station soon.” 

He keeps staring at it just so he doesn’t have to see the look on Phil’s face. Whether it’s disappointment, regret, or just more of that awful pity - Dan can do without. 

*

Phil doesn’t say much the whole time they’re walking. Dan almost pulls out headphones just to take control of the silence, but he still actually really fucking fancies Phil even if he feels small and embarrassed now. 

Even without many words exchanged, he can tell Phil wants to apologize. Every time he looks like he might start to say something, Dan just walks away so fast Phil has to catch up or interrupts him with a pointless question like what time Phil’s ticket says. 

“Dan-” Phil finally says, half a sigh. 

It’s really all it takes. Dan can feel himself thawing. He slows his steps just as they approach the right platform. He might be self destructive beyond all belief in almost all areas of his life, but this… he’ll let himself enjoy this one. 

*

Phil does just the right amount of talking, not so much that it’s oppressive but not so little that Dan feels like he’s got pressure on himself to keep the silence from taking over. 

With most people, he’d just let it. But Phil just happens to be the one person that he’s decided to give a shit about impressing, so he knows if Phil weren’t keeping up his end of conversation it’d be making Dan a mess. 

Instead of a mess he’s just being pleasantly entertained. Phil likes to tell stories, he realizes - he’s halfway through one about his mum the time she thought it would be a good idea to show up at one of Martyn’s shows to encourage her son and would end up sitting on the bar as a string of young attractive men bought her shots and asked her for the sort of advice that mums just give. 

She even had one of them around the next week to teach him how to make a proper Yorkshire pudding so he could impress his girlfriend. 

“Mate.” Dan leans back against the seat, laughing. “Your mum sounds like a treasure.” 

“You’ll have to meet her one day,” Phil says, leaving Dan to try not to read into that for the next hour of their trip.

*

“Doesn’t Brighton smell like the sea?” Phil asks as they step off the train. 

Dan takes a breath. It smells like a train station to him, like the scent of fumes and heated metal tracks and the frustration of people always busy running to or away from something. 

But he looks to the side at the smile on Phil’s face and he says, “Yeah. It smells great.” 

It’s worth it for the look Phil directs at him. “I’m glad we got to ride together,” Phil says. “I feel like I know you a lot better now.” 

“Yeah.” Dan finds his moment, and he grasps it with both hands. “We should do that more. Hang out.” 

Phil looks - happy. Surprised, maybe, but happy. “Yeah. I’d like that a lot. Maybe we could-” 

Dan doesn’t know what the rest of that sentence is because Phil’s mobile goes off, blaring - Britney? Really? Well, that’s a choice. Dan doesn’t hate it. 

Phil looks at it then turns the screen briefly so Dan can see it’s Martyn ringing. 

*

Dan sits on the ledge of a half-wall dividing the pavement from the shoreline, watching from afar as Phil follows Martyn down the beach with his camera. 

Cornelia had been keeping him company until Phil summoned her over for some shots of both of them. He watches until they seem so small, like figurines along the water's edge. He can see the red shock of Cornelia's hair and the green of Phl's hoodie but not much else. Martyn is obscured completely behind Phil and Phil's camera. 

It'll end up being good, whatever Phil does the footage. Dan knows how good an editor Phil is. He's watched every video Phil's put up on Martyn's channel. It doesn't matter that Phil's never in them himself. It feels almost more intimate somehow to know that what he's watching was put together by Phil, clips slotted together like puzzle pieces. 

He's sure that Phil's editing is a ot of why Martyn's catching fire so rapidly. It's easy to catch the spirit of him during his live sets. The crowd all wants to be there - they're primed for magic by the late hours and the booming speakers and the dark, packed clubs, the flashing lights. It's harder to translate that to a video someone watches in their own home or on a mobile or under blinking fluorescent lights while they wait on the spin cycle to finish in a laundromat near the dodgy end of the street with only one earbud in so they can hear when the machine finishes and leap up before anyone steals his clothes. Again. 

Not that Dan is drawing from personal experience. 

But it's true. It's true that even with one earbud dangling free and cold metal biting against his back where his shirt has ridden up and he's too lazy to even pull it back down again, he can watch one of Phil's videos and feel transported. 

He sits up a bit when he sees that they're walking back toward him. The moment of quiet and reflection has been nice, a blanket of calm for a mind that’s had too little rest and too much stimulation already - and the weekend hasn’t even really begun. 

*

Lunch is a loud obnoxious affair that happens well into the afternoon, Dan and Phil pressed together at the end of a large bench set surrounded by Martyn, Cornelia, and a flock of Martyn's friends, peers - fans. 

Dan can tell which is which. It amuses him to see the distinction - the way some of them fall all over themselves to curry Martyn's favor, while Martyn sits slightly oblivious and enjoying the attention in his normal passively detached way. 

He's a good guy, Martyn is. It's easy to acknowledge that he deserves success, if Dan pretends that he's capable of having thoughts like that about other people without a gnawing sense of inadequacy lurching in his own gut. 

But sometimes Dan's not that good of a person so he tries to tune Martyn's adoration party out and focuses on Phil instead, watching as Phil pushes the cheese covered bits of his veg to the side. 

"Not a fan of broccoli?" Dan asks. 

Phil jumps, like he's surprised to find someone addressing him. "What? Oh, no. Broccoli is fine. I just don't like the cheese. I asked for it without but I guess they forgot." 

"No cheese?" Dan acts appalled. "What kind of monster are you?" 

"Don't you mean muenster?" Phil asks. 

"Oh my god. I am physically pained by the badness of that pun." Dan groans.

Phil ducks his head and laughs. "I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not." 

Dan's not really either. He reaches over Phil and stabs a piece of broccoli. "Mmm," he says, loud enough to probably warrant some looks if the rest of the group weren't already into their cups and too immersed in their own rowdiness to even pay attention to the two weird, tall idiots at the end of the table. 

*

He loses Phil after the meal, following one of the techies Martyn brought along back to Martyn's car and starting the slow, exhausting process of unloading and setup. 

That, he thinks, is success. Being well off enough to get away with paying someone to do the shit part of your job for you. It takes him five trips back and forth to get all the boxes of music and even some random odds that Cornelia must have scrounged up from the last time they tried to make merch happen - lanyards and pin badges, probably, the cheap shit. 

Maybe after this weekend it won't be cheap shit anymore. He sets them all up at the table, writing out a price list with the prices Cornelia's texted him, even selling a few before he has the display up. 

By the time the sun sets his back is already twinging and he's trying not to think of what a long, lonely night it's going to be. 

*

"I can't believe he sold completely out." Cornelia sounds stunned as she surveys the completely empty table. She looks at Dan again as though Dan's going to tell her it's a prank and pull out a couple full boxes from out of his ass.

"The stuff goes faster and faster," Dan says. "But this is the first full sell out, isn't it?" 

She nods a slightly shaky and clearly very happy smile. "I've got to go tell him." 

It’s after midnight. His first set is done, but his second won’t start for another hour. Dan hasn’t seen him since lunch but if he had to guess he’d suppose there’s probably VIP something or other somewhere. 

"Wait-” Dan calls out when she's only a few steps away. "What else do you need me to do? Since I'm out of a job here?" 

She beams at him. "The night is yours, my dear. Go embrace it."

*

It's the two drinks he had to help the hours pass that lead him to knocking on Phil's hotel room door. He tells himself the entire walk from the festival to the hotel that Phil will probably be asleep. 

He's not wrong. Phil is definitely asleep - at least until some idiot starts to pound on his door and wakes him up. 

He looks bleary-eyed and bed-haired as he stands in front of Dan. "What..." 

Dan reaches out and smooths Phil's hair down. Mostly he just wants to touch. He wants to prove he's allowed to touch. 

And Phil does let him, sleepy eyes going even softer. 

"I'm done for the night," Dan says, then holds out a hand. "Come on a walk with me?" 

* 

Dan doesn't exactly whisk Phil away that very moment. Phil needs to put jeans and proper shoes on, so Dan stands and waits and looks around, nosy and filing things away in his mental Phil files. Phil's room is the same sort of shoebox that Dan's is - single bed with a bedside table and a lamp. a small dresser unit with a television on top of it, a bathroom with a tidy shower in one side and a toilet and sink on the other. 

"Ready," Phil says, sliding his wallet into his back pocket and grabbing his phone. "Where are we going, exactly?" 

"The beach," Dan says, in a 'duh' voice. "Is there anywhere else to even go around here?"

Phil shrugs. "Heard there's a festival happening?"

Dan makes a dismissing sound. "Lame." 

Phil looks over at him and laughs a bit. "Is that so?" 

"Yeah," Dan says. "All the coolest people bailed on it early."

"Like who?" Phil seems confused. 

Dan bumps their shoulders together. "You."

"Oh. Oh!" Phil suddenly gets it, grinning back at Dan. "That's very much not true." 

"If I say you're cool then you're cool," Dan says. "Anyway, your brother sold out of all his merch and albums, so I got put out of a job. Cornelia let me go but I figured... it's early..." 

"It's almost-" Phil looks down at his phone. "It's half one!"

"Right," Dan says. "Early." 

"You night owls are weird creatures." Phil stifles a yawn even as he speaks. "I always think I stay up too late until I do something like this." 

"Do you really not like it?" Dan asks. They're at the beach now, rocks underfoot. "Because if you don't, you must be brother of the year. You show up to a lot anyway."

Phil gives him a sheepish look. "Brother of the year. Sure." 

"What's that about?" Dan asks, catching the tone. 

Phil shoves his hands into his pocket and shrugs. "I don't know."

"Sounds like you maybe do." It must be the late hour getting into his head. 

"Sounds like maybe you do, too," Phil says. 

Dan's having one of those moments, one of those moments in life where he's listening to something that isn't his brain and just hoping it does lead him down a spiral of misery and bad decision making. 

He reaches out and finds Phil's hand, grasping it in his. "Do I?" 

"Yeah," Phil says, voice impossibly soft as his hand squeezes Dan's back. "You do." 

* 

They end up at a cafe on the beach. It has a gaudy neon sign advertising that it's always open and the smell of fish and chips radiates out in a way that would probably be sickening if Dan weren't so fucking hungry. 

He's sad to let go of Phil's hand, but happy to have something besides tequila in his belly. They split the fish and each get their own side of chips in place of the mushy peas that also comes with it. 

"So why didn't you want to stay for the festival?" Phil asks. 

Dan shrugs. "You weren't there." 

"Dan." Phil seems slightly shocked. 

"What?" Dan asks. 

"That's... sweet." 

"I can be sweet," Dan says. 

"I'm learning that." Phil takes another chip. "I like it." 

Underneath the table, Dan bumps their feet together. It's halfway an accident but he likes that Phil just leans his leg into Dan's. 

* 

It's almost three in the morning when they leave the chip shop. The streets are quiet save the bustle of noise from a club not too far off. 

It's the last place Dan wants to be, so he starts walking in the opposite direction, back to the hotel. "What now?" He asks. 

Phil shrugs at him. "This is your show, isn't it?"

"Mate." Dan shakes his head. "Never trust me. I don't know what I'm doing, like, ever. In life or moment to moment."

Phil gives him a strange look. "That sounds really depressing." 

Dan's heard that word before. He's heard it from doctors and concerned friends and even his own mum. It makes his skin crawl a bit, makes him want to lash out and snap back that it's not true, it's not him. It can't be. He's not depressed. Depressed people have a reason for being how they are. He's just dumb and lazy. 

But he doesn't want to ruin this with Phil so quickly, so he just shrugs. "That's me. Dropped out of uni last year and I've just been doing odd jobs - mostly for your brother, lately - and trying to pretend I'm not a miserable failure ever since then." 

"You were at uni?" Phil asks. "At Manchester?" 

"Yeah. Studying law." Dan gives him a tight smile. 

Phil looks surprised. People always do. "Law is hard," he says. 

"Sure is." Dan kicks at a stray rock on the ground. "Clearly too hard for me." 

"I didn't mean it like that," Phil says. "Are you planning on going back for something else?" 

That's the other thing people always say. He gives his standard answer, just a shrug. "Maybe one day. I need time to get over the crippling fear of failure that dropping out once already has instilled in me." 

"What about music?" Phil asks, and - that's new. "You're passionate about that, aren't you? You could study something to do with music." 

"Maybe," Dan says. "But I think most people with good careers in music didn't study it in a classroom, they just did it. Besides, I'm not like... good at anything. Except apparently selling home burned compact discs and USB sticks for people with actual talent." 

"You know," Phil says, voice dropping like he's sharing something confidential. "Martyn wasn't all that good until he met Cornelia. She taught him a lot about music and mixing, but mostly she just made him confident." 

Dan smiles. "Yeah. She's good at that. She even tries to help encourage my sorry ass." 

"Your ass isn't sorry," Phil says, then grins with his tongue between his teeth before peering around behind Dan. "It's quite nice, actually." 

"Perv." Dan can't hide how big the responding smile on his own face is. 

He reaches out and grabs Phil's hand again, because that went well earlier. It goes even better this time; not only does Phil hold back but he steps in closer to Dan so they're walking with as little space between them as possible. "Hey-" Phil says. "I've got an idea of something we can do." 

"What?" Dan asks, curious. 

Phil uses his free hand to dig in his pocket, and then brandishes a hotel room key card. 

"You want to... go back to your room?" Dan asks. He's not opposed to the idea - he just feels a little surprised at Phil's boldness. 

"No," Phil says. "A room. But not my room. Just - trust me."

"Okay," Dan says, curiosity thoroughly piqued. 

*

"Holy fuckballs," Dan says. 

Phil giggles behind him. "I know, right? They gave me the key earlier so I could take their stuff back. It's massive, right?"

"Whose dick did he suck to get this?" Dan looks around the suite. It has three separate rooms - a lounge, a bedroom, and a whole kitchenette - plus a bathroom that's as big as the room type that Dan and Phil both have. 

"He was invited by the festival, and I guess this is where they put the talent to stay. Bit stupid to me, since the festival goes all night anyway. Martyn's last set is four in the morning! That's not for another hour, and he plays for a whole hour after that." 

Dan turns to look at Phil. "So we have two hours to... do what, exactly?" 

He's pretty sure Phil isn't suggesting they fuck in his brothers hotel room bed. They haven't even kissed yet. Phil wouldn't - right? 

Right? 

Phil walks past Dan and opens the sliding double doors to a balcony. Dan follows him out and sees Phil standing proudly by a hot tub. "This!" 

"Holy shit." Dan laughs. "Did we break into your brother's hotel room just to use his hot tub?"

There's that grin again, that peekaboo tongue thing. "Maybe. Do you wanna?" 

Dan is already lifting his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck yeah." 

*

The water is hot, but Phil is hotter. 

"This was such a good idea," Dan says, stretching his legs out. The hot tub is clearly meant for two people who want to be cozy. It's small enough that his feet touch the other side. 

He doesn't mind that, though. He doesn't mind any of this. He's still got the vision of Phil's long pale body wearing only black Calvins burned into his mind and he knows he's got an even better visual to look forward to, when they actually get out of the hot tub and Phil steps out into the breezy night air wearing the same Calvins - except wet and clinging even more. 

He's done things with guys before. The whole sexuality thing wasn't even so much a crisis as it was just gaining confirmation of something he already knew once he was at uni. But he doesn't see people in general all that often, much less ones he ends up in a situation like this with. 

To be honest, there's never been a situation like this. There's never been someone he looked at and got butterflies in his stomach, not since before college even and he was just a kid back then. 

Phil is something different. Phil is a new experience. So he can't resist sneaking looks every time he thinks he can get away with it. 

It's easier since he thinks Phil is doing the same thing. He's not sure what about his own body is worth so many covert glances, but he likes it.

"If I had one of these I'd live in it," Dan says, moaning a bit even though he knows what that noise sounds like. 

He doesn't think the redness on Phil's face is entirely due to the heat of the water. It feels shameless in a very indulgent way, but Dan likes that too. 

"You'd turn into a human prune," Phil says. "All wrinkled up. Also I think the heat would... do things to you." 

"Things?" 

"Yeah, like." Phil gestures below. "Never be able to have kids." 

Dan snorts. "Yeah, because that's a concern of mine. Is it one of yours?" 

He knows from Cornelia that Phil isn't straight, but not really much more than that. Phil doesn't like to chat about labels with his good-as-sister-in-law, apparently. Or maybe he just doesn't like labels at all. Dan can respect that. 

"I'd like kids one day," Phil says. "But that's ages off."

"Well, thank you for the interest in my..." Dan waves his hand in the same gesture Phil had used, winking a bit. 

"Dan!" Phil laughs and splashes Dan gently, then watches blatantly as the water laps up Dan's chest. "You're awful." 

"I'm fucking awesome," Dan says, because false bravado is the only bravado that he has. 

Phil doesn't insult him again though. He just leans his head back against the rim of the hot tub and says, "Yeah, you are." 

*

Dan's lost track of how much time they've been sitting bathed by the warmth of the water and the moonlight cast down around them. 

The conversation has happened in bits and pieces, but there's mostly quiet now and for the last few minutes. 

He looks over to see if Phil might have fallen asleep and finds Phil looking at him intensely, eyes half-lidded but still so blue. 

"Hi," Dan says, with the smallest smile. 

"Hi," Phil says back. 

Then he moves closer, the distance between them disappearing. The air around them crackles with the something that's about to happen. 

"This alright?" Phil asks, words chased by a hand on Dan's bare thigh. 

Dan turns his body sideways partially. Just wants to look more fully at Phil. He wants to face this head on, with no doubt to be read in any shadows of his face. "Yeah," he says, voice low. 

Phil's mouth touches his with a heat that's different from the water and somehow, impossibly, even nicer. 

* 

Phil's back is a stretch of smooth pale skin everywhere Dan touches it. He's greedy about it, no chill at all. He can't be chill when he's got Phil Lester almost in his lap, Phil Lester's tongue down his throat. 

It helps that Phil doesn't seem all that chill, either. He kisses with eagerness and a little clumsiness, pausing to laugh and mutter apologies when their teeth click together or his weight falls on Dan in an unexpected way. 

"'s okay," Dan says, because there's not much Phil could do right now that wouldn't be okay. 

"Oh my god-" Phil pulls away to laugh. "This thing is too bloody small." 

"C'mere," Dan says, grabbing Phil's side and tugging him over. He tries not to think about how he's touching Phil's pants. He can't look down, either, not when Phil swings that leg over and suddenly is straddling Dan's lap. He knows he can't handle it. 

Kissing Phil from this angle is even nicer. Phil's arms drape over Dan's shoulders and their chests press together and Dan wonders why he's never done this in a hot tub with anyone else before? Maybe because he's never had a Phil Lester to do it with before. Maybe that's what makes the difference. 

*

He's losing track of time and also his tenuous-to-begin-with sense of propriety. 

Phil's so close now, hips snug against Dans, and Dan can _feel_ things. He tries to tell himself that mauling Phil before they've even gone out on a date is not the most suave move, but Phil doesn't seem to have those same reservations. He's mouthing at Dan's neck and rubbing his fingers against Dan's shoulders and Dan is too sensitive for this. He feels lightheaded with how much he wants and how fucking _hard_ he is. 

"Fuck," he says out loud. 

Phil's head pops back. "Good fuck or bad fuck?" 

"Good fuck," Dan quickly reassures him. "I feel like I'm gonna pass out." 

Phil frowns. "That sounds bad." 

"No, it's just-" Dan swallows and closes his eyes, tipping his head backwards. "The water's still hot and suddenly my blood's all rushing somewhere besides my head." 

"Dan!" Phil groans so clearly that now Dan's the one wondering if it's a good or a bad sound. "You can't just say that." 

"I did," Dan says, darting in to steal another kiss. "But if you don't believe me you could check for yourself." 

"Dan." The groan has a different timbre to it now. He's shocked to feel Phil's reaching down between them, even though he literally just told Phil to do it. 

Phil's fingers seek out the shape of him through his pants, cupping and then pressing in with his palm. 

"Fuck-" Dan says, body going tense. "Fuck, Phil." 

"Wish we could," Phil says. "You feel so good." 

Dan takes a page out of Phil's book. "You can't just say that." 

"I did," Phil says, playing the exchange out. "Because you do." 

"Go on a date with me," Dan blurts out. 

Phil, to Dan's surprise, doesn't even seem that thrown before he says, "Okay." 

"Yeah?" Dan feels breathless for another reason now, possibly the only thing that could make him happier than Phil's hand on his cock. "Really?" 

"Dan." Phil laughs a bit through the word, then leans in and presses an almost chaste kiss right to Dan's mouth. "Yes. I've fancied you like mad for ages now, you have to know that." 

"Did not," Dan says. "Just hoped." 

Phil rolls his eyes. "Surely Cornelia told you." 

Dan pouts. "Did she tell you that I fancied you?" 

"Yes," Phil says, laughing again. "Only every time I saw her." 

Dan sputters. "That little c-" 

Phil kisses him again, and again, and again. 

*

Dan’s not sure what goes wrong in between getting out of the hot tub with every intention of going back to one of their hotel rooms to see this through, and the moment when he braces his hands against Martyn’s hotel room balcony with Phil’s hand on his cock. 

But he’s definitely not complaining. In fact, wrong is a relative term; he can’t see much fault with any part of this situation as he stares out at the ocean front view and lets Phil drive him wild. 

Phil’s whole front is pressed in tight to his back and he’s sucking what’ll surely be a mark on Dan’s neck while he wanks Dan off - slow, like he’s not in a hurry at all, like his brother won’t be back at some point. 

Time. They should have checked the time. But Dan won’t let that worry him right now. Nothing penetrates the bliss of this handjob, weirdly otherworldly with the pleasure building in his body and the feeling like nothing else in the world exists. 

Even if there were people, the balcony wall comes up high enough that they wouldn’t see anything more than two men stealing a moment together before the sun has even threatened to rise. 

“Phil,” Dan says, breathing out a long exhale. 

Phil wraps his other arm around Dan, hand flattening against Dan’s torso. The drops of water are drying on their bodies but Dan can still feel the dampness of Phil’s underwear pressed against his own ass - the thickness of Phil's cock, the hardness of it, snug right between the crack of Dan's ass where his own pants are shoved down to his thighs. 

It's not elegant. They don't make a pretty picture. They make a desperate, horny, impatient picture. But what's inside Dan's mind doesn't reflect that. The way this makes him feel is beautiful, the picture narrowed down to what's in front of him and Phil's long, slender fingers tugging on him. 

He won't last long. He covers Phil's hand with his own, squeezing hard as a warning. "Fuck," he breathes softly, ending on a whine. 

When he comes it's pulses of pleasure milked out by that fantastic hand. Phil cups his palm over the head and catches it, moaning like he's the one who who feels so pleasantly turned upside down and spun around. 

He slumps back against Phil when he's done. "Fuck," he says again, one word stuck on a repeat loop in his mind. 

Phil giggles and kisses his neck. "Yeah." 

Dan turns suddenly, crushing his mouth to Phil's. "Fuck." 

"You said that," Phil says, kissing back before he stops. "Dan, I have a hand full of your come." 

And that's all it takes for a dam to break. Under the moonlight, bodies wet and hearts so light, they laugh like idiots. 

*

Phil washes his hand in Martyn and Cornelia's fancy penthouse suite bathroom sink and they redress in a hurry. The sun really will rise soon and even without their cocks out, Dan doesn't want to be caught in his boss's room. 

"Come to mine?" Phil says, grabbing Dan's hand with both of his own. 

He's still hard. They ran out of time here, but Dan's not going to let him get away without returning the favor. He tugs Phil to him and gives him a kiss. "Yeah. Of course." 

*

They don’t even stop by Dan’s room. He’ll worry about clothes tomorrow.

Instead they push each other through the halls, stopping in corners to kiss and touch like the giddy kind of lovers Dan thought had to be made up for movies and romance novels. 

Maybe the sleep deprivation and the soaking in a tub of too-warm water for hours might have something to do with it as well. But he’d rather just think that it’s Phil. 

He’d rather this just be something special he gets to have and, hopefully, keep. 

He almost says that, too, before he thinks better about it. Don’t want to rush it, don’t want to scare Phil away too soon. They’ve got a date to go on, after all. 

But first he’s going to make Phil come so hard that hopefully Phil feels a fraction of the bliss Dan felt up there on the balcony. So he gets Phil into the room and he pushes Phil onto the bed and he takes his time in the most impatient way, every touch an oxymoron of good intention and eagerness. 

It doesn't take Phil long, hours of foreplay and the erotic edge of a moment half finished on the balcony. He comes shuddering against Dan in bed. Dan wipes his hand with a box of tissues already beside the bed and then, only then, does he let the exhaustion hit him. 

Phil's already asleep, fading from his orgasm into soft kisses with Dan into pure slumber with a fluid transition from one to the other. Dan takes a moment just to stare at his face through the sun just beginning to shine in through the window. Phil looks pale and peaceful and lovely and real, human, right here beside Dan for Dan to hopefully touch and kiss and spend the night with many more times to come. 

*

Dan wakes up feeling overwhelmed and underslept, but it's a state he's very familiar with it. It still takes him time to orient himself, mind cycling through what should be where only to gradually accept the lack of normality to be had. 

Because he's not in his own bed in his own shit flat. He's in a different bed, and he's not alone. 

A smile breaks out on his face. 

He's not alone. 

He looks over just to verify and, yes, there is Phil sleeping with his mouth inelegantly open and his hair flopped over one eye. 

Dan turns his head to the other side and squints at the readout on the clock. Half nine - so they only went to bed a few hours ago, really. 

He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. 

*

When he wakes again it's to Phil's hushed voice. 

Dan lets out a sleepy sound of protest, rolling over in the direction of Phil. Phil reaches out and puts a hand in his hair, like he's soothing Dan quiet. "Yeah, when? Oh, lunch - I can do that. I'll need a shower first. Half an hour - yeah. That should be alright. Yeah, invite him, totally. I brought the drone, I can put him to work on that." 

Dan’s curiosity is piqued, but he holds his questions in until after Phil hangs up and puts the phone aside. 

"Cornelia's going to text you,” Phil says, slumping back from where he'd been sat against the headboard, body sliding down down down until his head is even with Dan's again. "Hi. Good morning." 

"Good morning." Dan smiles. He can feel the line in his cheek where the pillow had been creased. He probably looks like a mess. That's right. He's a mess in a dream that can't possible be his life. He'll just enjoy it until he wakes up. 

He hears his phone ding. It's somewhere off the side of the bed. 

"Told you," Phil says. 

"You did." Dan smiles. "So what does the grand dame want?" 

Phil doesn't miss a beat. "Your royal presence for dining the midday meal."

"Sure she doesn't want me to serve it instead?" Dan asks. "I am the paid help." 

"Maybe." Phil gives him a curious look. "What kind of costume have you got for serving in? Maybe a little maid's number?" 

"You perv." Dan grins proudly. "So if we're jumping straight into morning roleplay, I take it you aren't having serious regrets about last night." 

"Just one." Phil leans in very, very close, and then drops a small kiss on Dan's mouth. "That we had to leave that hotel room and come back here." 

Dan laughs. "Okay, I'll give you that one. I agree. But besides that." 

Phil smiles widely at him. "No regrets."

*

He meets Phil near the entrance to the hotel. Phil's looks fresh and gorgeous with his hair pushed back and his glasses on, wearing a button up and nicer jeans than Dan and holding the backpack Dan knows has camera equipment in it slung over one shoulder. 

Phil starts to grin as Dan walks closer. Dan can feel the infatuated-idiot-face taking over as his dimples deepen in return, but at least he's not alone. 

"Hello, stranger." Phil's voice seems deeper somehow. 

Dan reaches out to straighten one of Phil's backpack straps where it's starting to tangle. "Been a while." 

Phil starts to say something back, but Cornelia's voice cuts across the lobby. "Oh, there are my lovely boys!" 

She looks far too bright and awake for how little sleep she must have gotten. 

Phil goes right in for a hug, while Dan hangs back and just gives her a smile and a nod. 

"Where's Martyn?" Phil asks. 

"I believe the last time I saw him, he was caveman crawling through the hallway telling me how inhumane it is that there are only twelve hours between midnight and noon." Cornelia grins and turns around just as Martyn slumps, bleary eyed and looking like he's taken every bit of hangover Cornelia seems to not have. 

He just grunts when he gets to them. Cornelia wraps both her arms around one of his and laughs. "A coffee and some food is all you need, love. Come on, let's fill you up with grease and carbs." 

*

Unlike the night before, this meal is only the four of them. 

Martyn naps until the coffee arrives, then props his head up long enough to funnel it into his mouth. 

"Doesn't that burn?" Phil asks. 

Without missing a beat Martyn says, "I've lost at least two layers of skin on the roof of my mouth." 

Cornelia slaps him on the arm and takes the mug away. "No more energy bean juice for you until you prove you're responsible enough to handle it." 

Martyn regards her with betrayal in his eyes. "You say that about coffee but you didn't about the beyond copious amounts of alcohol I consumed last night?" 

"I'm your girlfriend not your babysitter," she reminds him. "I have reasons to want your tongue without second degree burns, but your liver is of no immediate use to me." 

"Eerggh," Phil contributes, as soon as he realizes what she's talking about. "I'm not even hung over and I don't think I can handle that kind of talk at the breakfast table." 

"Oh, you can't?" She lifts an eyebrow, then reaches for her purse. She reaches in and pulls out a lanyard with a festival badge on it. "You know, strangest thing, I found this on our balcony last night." 

Dan feels a rush of cold. He recognizes his own name on the bottom of the lanyard then reaches out to snatch it. "Oh, that’s odd."

"Odd." Cornelia grins. "Considering the only person with access to our room was Phil." 

"Uh." Martyn just looks half confused and half like he doesn't care. 

Dan feels out of his depth enough to not say anything and just let Phil and Cornelia play out their staredown, before Phil groans covers his face with his hands. "Shut up." 

"Uh-" Martyn says again. 

Phil groans and turns his face into Dan's shoulder to muffle the noise into it. "Nooo." 

Dan's heart does a strange flipping thing and the feeling makes him bold enough enough to put his arm around Phil and laugh a little awkward laugh, as Cornelia pats Martyn's arm and says, "It's alright, darling, don't strain your brain. I'll fill you in later."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote about 75% of this fic on a single day in January, because it was a phanfic bingo prompt I started and didn't finish months before. But I promised Sarah hot tub sex, and hot tub sex I delivered. Hopefully you guys like it too!
> 
> [rebog on tumblr here](http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/post/183524523030/kiss-me-in-the-dark-tonight-danphil-rated)


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